


17 Step Program

by Lestradesexwife



Series: Prompt fills and Random Plot Bunnies. [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Drug Use, First Meetings, Gen, Recovery, little bit of fandom meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is technically separate but can be read in conjunction with "I could be the best time of your life." </p><p>Greg and Sherlock meet at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Sherlock is Sherlocky. Greg is skeptical, but impressed.<br/>Greg becomes Sherlock's sponsor and the rest is as they say...</p>
            </blockquote>





	17 Step Program

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely do not own anything. Any resemblance to persons fictional or real is strictly co-incidence.

“Hullo, I’m Greg and I’m an addict.”

“Hi Greg.” Came back at him in a rough chorus from the twenty or so people in the room.

“Um, yeah, so I’ve been sober for 3 years now, and it has been awhile since I’ve needed to come to a meeting. But…” Greg cleared his throat. “I work at the Yard, and there has been a bunch of murders, someone is making it look like overdoses, but it is too many too quick you know… Anyway, they all have all this gear. And the smell. I had almost forgotten how good it can smell. And Rebecca came back from a trip up to her “sister’s” with a giant fucking hickey on her neck, like she is a teenager and not someone I have been married to for the better part of a decade. And suddenly all I can think about is snagging some gear from the evidence lock up and making it all just vanish.”

The group leader made some comments when Greg had finished speaking, about remaining focused and remembering why he had gotten sober in the first place. Greg had heard it all before, and honestly the temptation had vanished as soon as he remembered the slack pale faces of the victims in his latest case. He’d really come to the meeting to feel connected to something again.

He felt immensely better as he poured himself a cup of terrible coffee and added too much sugar and cream. Watching out of the corner of his eye as a tall skinny kid in a thread bare great coat sidled up to the coffee table. 

“You should leave your wife, she is a serial adulteress and she won’t stop having affairs. Also you have an angel of mercy on your hands. All your victims have been to rehab recently, but not the same one, you should look at volunteers, candy stripers and the such.”

”I beg your pardon? How did you know they had been to rehab?” He carefully set down his coffee cup and turned to examine they young man beside him. He looked younger than he actually was. He was in that rare stage where the drugs actually preserved you, balanced on a razor’s edge between fully functional and curled up on a street corner covered in track marks. His coat had seen better days but it was obviously expensive, and clean. But his fingers still twitched and he was holding his arms close to his body, as though trying to keep himself from vibrating apart.

“There wasn’t any mention of it in the papers, but all the victims were found in proper flats, places that they had recently moved into not bedsits or flop houses where you would expect a junkie to overdose.” The young man picked up Greg’s coffee and sipped it, making a face of disgust at the amount of sugar Greg had added. “The angel either caught them relapsing or supposed that they would and put them out of their misery.”

“But we have already checked, there isn’t any overlap between any of the staff or volunteers in the victim’s rehab facilities. There isn’t any connection between any of the victims.”

The young man sighed. “Really Detective Inspector Lestrade.” He made a sweeping gesture to encompass the room. “No connection between them?”

Greg’s eyes widened and he turned sharply to scan the room. People were still sitting around, in groups of three or four, talking quietly and offering support. “Jesus fuck.” The victims didn’t have to attend the same groups, the angel could pick from any number of meetings all over town, and it would be impossible to make the connection. His eyes snapped back to the young man beside him. “How did you know my name?”

The other man smirked and set down the coffee. “And finally he sees. Don’t worry Lestrade, I will keep your secret. I told you I read it in the papers, you are quite a bit more fetching than your photo in the Mail. And before you ask, I’ve been away in Switzerland the last month. My brother shipped me off to a fancy rehab clinic in the Alps.”

“Who are you? Do people often ask you for a murder alibi?”

There was a ghost of a proper smile on the other man’s face. “Sherlock Holmes. And no, this is the first time.”


End file.
